Called on Account of 'No'
by LadyDivine91
Summary: Kurt and Blaine are still test driving their New Year's Resolutions with less and less stellar results. Klaine. Kurt H. Blaine A.


**Notes:** **Written as a part two of sorts to Resolution Rehearsal and includes the Klaine Advent Drabble 2018 prompts 'yoke/Santa'. Also, the app in the story is a real thing.**

"Blaine?"

"Mmm …? ( _Snork-snork_ )"

"Honey?"

"Mmm-mmmph … ?"

"Blaine? Wake up, Blaine."

"Wha-? _Why_?"

"Because it's time to get up."

Blaine opens one eye a sliver, then the other. When he can't see his husband's face clearly past the darkness surrounding them, he shuts them again, squeezing them tight. "No! We only went to bed two hours ago!"

"I know," Kurt says, rubbing his husband's shoulders, "but we're testing our resolutions, remember?"

"And what resolution requires us to get out of bed at the unholy butt crack of dawn when it's below freezing outside!?"

"The one where we were going to hit the gym before work to fit an extra hour of cardio into our day."

"Pfft," Blaine mutters, grabbing the edge of their comforter and pulling it up over his head. "And whose asinine idea was that?"

"Uh … _yours_." Kurt grabs the blanket and gives it a yank, but Blaine holds on for dear life. "And as resolutions go, it's not a bad one, so get your butt out of bed."

"Noooo!" Blaine whines, burrowing deeper into the mattress. "I was wrong! And an idiot!"

"Be that as it may, we shouldn't throw in the towel this quickly."

Blaine snorts, insulted. "I'm fine with giving up."

"Blaine!"

" _Kurt_! I'm supposed to be playing Santa at the children's hospital this year!"

"Uh …" That comment slows Kurt down. He looks around, trying to find his husband's point. " _So_ …?"

" _So_ kids want to see a fat, jolly Santa! Not a yoked, muscular Santa! Which means I'm good till after Christmas at least."

"Blaine Devon Ander-Hummel! _I'm_ awake now because of _your_ idea! Your _good_ idea, which we both decided we would start implementing _today_! I'm getting out of bed, and you're coming with me! By force, if necessary!"

Blaine sighs. "Fine. But can you at least tell me what the weather's going to be like today?"

"It's snowing. The same as it has been every day since September first."

"Just check. Please? Then I'll get up and join you. I promise."

Kurt stares at the lump that is his husband, curled like a grub underneath their blanket, refusing to move until he gets his way. _Jesus Christmas!_ Kurt thinks. _The man sure knows how to stall!_

"All _right_!" Kurt groans, reaching for his phone beside his pillow.

"Can you check on my phone?" Blaine asks, not moving from his blanket fortress.

Kurt rolls his eyes. The only reason Blaine is making a fuss is because he downloaded some weather forecasting app called _What the Forecast?_ that he thinks is hilarious. It's a mixture of racy one-liners and surreal comments, the likes of which former A.P. students like Blaine would find clever.

But Kurt, also an ex-A.P. student, doesn't find it quite as amusing.

"This magical app that you installed on your phone says …" In the dim light, Kurt sees Blaine hold his breath, already on the verge of laughter. Kurt reads the forecast quietly to himself first, and a headache starts between his eyes. It's too early for this. He knows that when he reads this out loud, it's going to derail their entire morning. That's probably what Blaine is banking on "… _Overcast and fucking dreary. Probably a good day for bedroom sexy time._ "

As Kurt expected, Blaine pops up out of his comforter like a gopher springing out of its hole. Only the gopher would be willing to get to work.

Kurt can't say as much for his husband.

"Well, that changes things," Blaine says.

"Does it?"

"Absolutely. Now we _have_ to get up and get our exercise."

Kurt stares at his husband in shock. "Really?"

"A-ha. But that doesn't mean we have to leave this bed."

Kurt shakes his head. "Surprise, surprise."

"Don't be like that." Blaine grabs a hold of his husband's arm and pulls him slowly towards him. "That app is a highly sophisticated weather forecasting tool. I think that we should heed its advice."

Kurt laughs, struggling playfully as his husband drags him into his down cocoon. "But yesterday it said _I've been told that cirrus is Latin for ankle biting hamster jerk_!"

"I had a hamster when I was a kid. It's not wrong."


End file.
